Your erotic stories

Ricks vision began to lighten; the world around him a kaleidoscope of pale swirls. His hearing was coming alive the hum of electric light tubes and a strange ventilation sucking noise filling the air. He sensed the passage of time-was it still evening? He didn't think so. His mind tried to retrace his steps.

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Billy Joe Parker hears a vehicle pull up outside the beat up old trailer where he lives with his daddy. He looks out the window and sees Sally Mae Struthers getting out of her pick-up truck. She's wearing a pair of tight shorts and a cotton top that stretches across her ample tits. Billy Joe hasn't seen her in a long time and is pleasantly surprised by the unexpected visit. He walks out to say hello.

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Growing up my sister and I had been really close. We were only separated by a year, so her and I were two peas in a pod. Then junior year of high school came around and I started seeing other guys, and my sister hit more of a standstill socially. She was awkward around guys, and actually seemed to enjoy her time more in the private confines of her girlfriends. I found it strange because most girls were looking to date, or at least find a guy to hook up with a practice on before college.

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The identity of the man who purchased the mansion on the hill that rose above any landmarks for a mile around was a mystery to every resident of Langley Street, the street that led motorists and pedestrians alike to the private estate and the foot of its sweeping front drive. As much as rumor could provide, the new owner was a young man in his early twenties, obviously a man who had recently come into good fortune, either by his own merit or by luck.

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The early morning flight settled softly onto the runway rousing us from our light slumber, the heat of the day burst into the cabin as the main doors opened and the fragrant smells of the island filled the air. We made our way out, gathered our luggage, & shuffled through customs before we finally climbed into our rental car. Kate navigated as we made our way across the island the small beachside villa we'd rented.

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"What the hell do you mean eight hundred bucks?" I practically yelled into the phone. "It's a fucking water pump!" My mechanic gave me some song and dance about having to pull a load of shit off the engine to get to the broken part. "Fuck, dude," I said. "Where the hell am I getting that kind of money?" He gave me some more song and dance.

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"Truth or dare?" asks Cristina. "Truth," Sammy answers. There'd be plenty of time for wild antics later. The slumber party was just getting started. "Okay..." Cristina looks around the room at her friends mischievously grinning, feigning serious consideration with a finger to her chin. She pauses extra long to build suspense and takes a swig of her wine cooler before posing her brilliant question: "Spit or swallow?"

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The day started off like any other Saturday: I woke up, nursing a little hangover, walked into my kitchen and made some coffee. It was a bright day outside and somewhere around 10 o'clock. I slowly got dressed and made myself a little breakfast, picked up my laptop and set off sending some emails I'd neglected the day before. That went on for about an hour or two when there was a sudden knock on the door. I looked up, perplexed, and slowly walked to the door, hearing the knocking again.

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Starting a successful home business is a hard thing, that's for sure. There were many obstacles and difficulties when I started, but now the 'Watson & Co.' is a popular branding. Being an entrepreneur is not easy, let alone when the '& Co.' part of your brand is nonexistent. That's right. There is no one else helping in managing the company but myself. Alexander Watson worked solo.

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On the bus ride home from college Amy was unconsciously teasing as usual. There weren't ever many people on the bus and since I was the only one she knew, we usually ended up sat together in deep discussion about life and experiences. She teased with stories of what her boyfriend Nick liked her to do and all the things that really turned her on, not to mention the fact that now it was summer I couldn't help peeking down the gap in her blouse at her pert breasts and the way her short summer skirt displayed almost all of her athletic thighs; thus leaving me to try and cover the tent being pitched in my trousers.

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